


The Violin

by sylveparker



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock - Fandom, Sherlock BBC, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle, johnlock - Fandom
Genre: Doctor John Watson, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, POV John Watson, Romantic Fluff, Sherlock's Violin, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:41:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29636877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylveparker/pseuds/sylveparker
Summary: Sherlock gives John a private violin lesson in 221B.Literally just cute Johnlock fluff.🖤
Relationships: John Watson/Sherlock Holmes, John/Sherlock, Johnlock, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Sherlock/John - Relationship
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	The Violin

POV: John Watson

Watching Sherlock play the violin is one of my favorite parts of living with him.  
His silhouette against the window as he plays is beautiful and powerful.  
The way he closes his eyes as the music swells, feeling it instead of reading it.  
Watching his fingers dance up and down the neck of the instrument as he draws the bow across the strings, so steady and sure.   
Feeling as the music wraps around the flat, stirs inside of me.  
It’s beautiful.  
He opens his eyes, smiling at me from across the room.  
He plays the last note and the tone resonates throughout the flat.  
“Beautiful, Sherlock.” I say, smiling up at him. “I’ll never understand how you do that.”  
He cocks his head to one side, looking at me in confusion.   
“Do what?” He asks.   
I laugh softly.   
“That.” I say, waving a hand to gesture to his violin. “Looks too hard for me.”  
He smiles.   
“Nah.” He says. “Come here.”  
I look up at him, eyes narrowing.  
I’m not in the mood to make a fool of myself in front of him tonight.  
“Oh, come on John. Trust me.” He says, nodding his head, signaling for me to go over.  
I sigh, pushing myself up out of my chair.  
I walk over to him, looking up at his face.   
“Turn around.” He says, gently.   
Reluctantly, I do, unsure of what he’s doing.   
Slowly, he slides his left hand down my left arm to my hand, pulling it up.   
With his right hand, he places the neck of his violin in my hand.  
“Hold that.” He murmurs in my ear, arranging my fingers around the neck.  
Goosebumps dance across my body.  
“Now lift your chin,” he murmurs, moving the body of the violin towards me, “and rest it here.”  
I gently lower my chin down on the black semicircle on the end, like I’ve seen him do a thousand times before.  
“Good.” He says softly. “Now hold the bow, like this.”  
He moves my fingers on my right hand around the bow, gently wrapping his hand around mine.  
His left hand finds mine again, gently covering my fingers with his.  
He presses down two of my fingers over a string.   
“C sharp.” He whispers, moving our right hands to drag the bow against the strings.  
I turn my head slightly, smiling at him.   
He smiles back at me, moving our fingers again.   
“A minor.” He whispers, dragging the bow.   
Every note sends chills down my spine.  
His body presses against mine as he moves my fingers under his, slowly playing through a song.  
Each note he murmurs against my hair sends a new wave of goosebumps across my skin.  
He slides the bow across the strings, pulling the final note out of the violin.  
We stand in silence as it resonates, burning through us.   
He slowly slides the bow out of my hand, setting it down on the music stand.  
Then he slides the violin out from under my chin, setting it down on the stand.  
I turn to face him, slowly.   
“See?” He whispers, brushing his fingers through my hair and down the back of my neck.   
He kisses the tip of my nose gently.  
“You’re brilliant.” He murmurs.  
I wrap my arms around his waist, holding him gently.   
“Oh, please.” I laugh softly. “That was all you.”   
He looks at me in mock surprise.   
“Me?” He asks. “No, no, no. I distinctly remember you holding the violin. It was you.”  
I roll my eyes, smiling up at him as I hug him closer and rest my head against his chest.  
He laughs softly through his nose, wrapping his arms around me and pressing his lips against my hair.

You’re brilliant.

His words echo through my mind.  
The smartest man in the bloody world, and he calls me brilliant.  
I smile against his shirt, pulling him even closer if possible.  
“You better be careful Mr. Holmes.” I mutter. “I might be the next musical genius.”  
He laughs softly for a moment, then leans back, looking down at me with wide eyes.  
I smile up at him.  
“Kidding.” I say.   
He nods, pulling me back to him.   
His lips are just about to meet mine when the door opens.

“Boys have you seen my—oh!” Mrs. Hudson exclaims as she walks into the flat.  
Sherlock groans, letting me go as he turns to look out of the window.  
I turn to face Mrs. Hudson, my face reddening slightly.  
I’m still not entirely used to people knowing about us.   
“Seen what?” I ask, clearing my throat.   
Mrs. Hudson looks back at me, her eyes soft and a smile on her face.  
She leans against the doorframe with her hand against her chest.  
“Mrs. Hudson?” I ask.  
She blinks at me, shaking her head.  
“Right!” She exclaims. “My salad tongs, have you seen them?”  
“Kitchen.” Sherlock says, walking to his desk and sitting down.  
I look at him, and then back at Mrs. Hudson.   
“I’ll grab them.” I say, smiling at her briefly.   
I go to the kitchen and look on Sherlock’s table.   
I find them quickly and bring them back to Mrs. Hudson.  
“I would wash them first if I were you.” I tell her. “They were with his stuff.”  
I gesture to Sherlock as he types into his laptop.  
“Thank you dear.” She says and I hand them to her. “I’m sorry if I… interrupted things.”   
My face flushes a deep red, I look down at my shoes.   
“Bye!” Sherlock exclaims from his desk, looking up at Mrs. Hudson.  
She scurries out, and I lock the door behind her.  
I walk across the room, and slide onto Sherlock’s lap.  
“Where were we?” I ask, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Something like this, right?”  
He looks at me with a sly smile.  
“No,” he whispers as he wraps his arms around my torso, “more like this I think.”  
He presses his lips to mine, pulling me closer.  
Dear god, I’m in deep.   
And for once, I don't mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, leave a comment!!


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